


Demilitarized Zone

by MontanaHarper



Category: Teen Wolf (TV) RPF
Genre: Fade to Black, Flirting, Fluff, Get Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-18
Updated: 2012-12-18
Packaged: 2017-11-21 11:46:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/597387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MontanaHarper/pseuds/MontanaHarper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>There are some apologies that should be made in public, and some that absolutely should be made in private—as much for the benefit of the person you're apologizing to as for yourself. This definitely falls into the realm of "someone saying 'I'm sorry' should not be more traumatic than whatever it is they're saying it for."</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Demilitarized Zone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eight_demands](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eight_demands/gifts).



> As you said, these boys are ridiculously obsessed with each other, and it's a joy to put that on paper. I hope it makes you as happy to read as it made me to write. :-)
> 
> Set during the filming of the season two ep "Fury."

As soon as Tim calls cut, Dylan opens his mouth to apologize to Hoechlin, and then shuts it again. There are some apologies that should be made in public, and some that absolutely should be made in private—as much for the benefit of the person you're apologizing to as for yourself. This definitely falls into the realm of "someone saying 'I'm sorry' should not be more traumatic than whatever it is they're saying it for." 

Thankfully, it looks like the failure of his shirt's structural integrity was a great distraction, because no one has said a word about anything else, and Posey, at least, wouldn't be able to resist if he noticed. 

~ | ~ | ~

Hoechlin's still got another scene to shoot, so while Dylan waits he sees Posey off—his brothers are visiting from L.A. and they're all spending the short weekend at their dad's—and then he takes a quick shower in his trailer. By the time he's finished, Hoechlin's done for the day (night) and Dylan falls into step with him on the way to the parking lot.

"Dude, I am so sorry," he says.

Hoechlin's stride doesn't falter. "For...?"

If it were anyone else, he'd figure they were making him spell it out as some kind of minor payback, but Hoechlin isn't like that, not at all. 

"For the accidental inappropriate groping," he clarifies. 

Hoechlin shrugs. "Shit happens," he says, then bumps their shoulders together, and for a minute it seems like it's going to end up being the easiest and most pleasant potentially humiliating conversation Dylan's ever had.

Once they're in the truck, though, Hoechlin puts the key in the ignition but doesn't start it. He shoots a sideways look at Dylan, and then says, "Do I even want to know why your arm was there in the first place?" He looks more amused than anything, but Dylan still buries his face in his hands for a second, because he's aware of just how ridiculous this is going to sound. 

"I was trying to keep things from getting awkward?" he says. He doesn't mean it to come out as a question, but it does anyway. "It was supposed to be a demilitarized zone between my junk and your junk." 

There's dead silence for about half a second, and then Hoechlin starts to laugh. It's Dylan's favorite of his laughs, the one that starts out as a grin and ends with his nose crinkled and his eyes squeezed shut like he's absolutely overwhelmed—but also entertained—by how ridiculous Dylan is (Dylan has maybe spent a little too much time thinking about Hoechlin's laughter and his smiles and possibly his face in general), and it makes Dylan want to laugh, too. 

"Yeah, it was a pretty spectacular failure," he admits. "I mean, it worked, for strictly literal values of worked, but as far as the overall intent? Not so much."

The laughter trails off and Dylan looks over to see Hoechlin shaking his head and grinning fondly. On impulse, he says, "Let me make it up to you. I'll cook tomorrow, anything you want. If I don't know how to make it, I'll look up a recipe."

Hoechlin turns the key and the truck roars to life. "Isn't that kind of backwards? I thought you were supposed to buy someone dinner first and then grope them," he says, and Dylan feels off-kilter, like he stepped into a parallel universe or something, because that almost sounds like flirting.

Whatever. There's no universe in which Dylan isn't going to flirt back with Tyler Hoechlin, given the opportunity, so he says, "I'm a nontraditional kind of guy?"

"That's definitely true," Hoechlin says, and he doesn't sound like he thinks it's a bad thing at all.

~ | ~ | ~

When they pull into the parking lot of the 24-hour Kroger, the sun is just starting to peek over the horizon. Dylan throws a curious look in Hoechlin's direction, and Hoechlin says, "I was thinking steaks."

Dylan nods, already mentally going over the contents of their fridge (pretty minimal right now; he remembers ketchup, some beer, a ton of energy drinks, and a crisper drawer that's close to developing sentient life) and figuring out what they need to buy. Wandering the produce aisle together feels weirdly domestic, in a way that communal grocery shopping hasn't been before, and he's not sure if that's because it's just the two of them or because of the (maybe?) flirting, or if his sleep deprivation is just catching up with him and making him hallucinate.

Once they get home, Hoechlin heads straight for the bathroom and Dylan puts away most of what they bought. He's just finished stabbing the steaks with a fork and is settling them into the glass pan full of soy-ginger marinade when Hoechlin reappears wearing nothing but a pair of boardshorts, his skin flushed and damp from the shower. 

"Hand me the plastic wrap?" Dylan asks, flipping each of the steaks once to get them thoroughly coated. The box appears in his peripheral vision and he takes it. 

Hoechlin's hands settling on his shoulders isn't unusual, nor is the way he crowds against Dylan's back to see what he's working on in the kitchen. What is unusual is the way Dylan is noticing everything about him right now, hyper-aware of Hoechlin's solid, distracting warmth and the faint scent of citrus body wash on his skin. 

"I may have used up all the hot water," Hoechlin says apologetically, giving Dylan's shoulders a squeeze and then letting go and stepping back.

Dylan shrugs, tearing off a piece of plastic wrap big enough to cover the pan. "I showered in my trailer while I was waiting for your slow ass," he says, and he doesn't even need to look to see the face Hoechlin makes. "Some of us don't need to take an hour under scalding water."

"Some of you don't spend half the time with prosthetics glued to your skin, either," Hoechlin points out, which, okay, Dylan will give him that one.

"All right, the steak is done for now," Dylan says, as he slides the pan into the fridge to marinate overnight. He's tired enough that he needs to think out loud or he'll lose track. "Potatoes and salad I'll deal with tomorrow. I hear my bed calling my name."

He's halfway through brushing his teeth when he realizes. "Shit," he says, spitting out a mouthful of toothpaste. He turns to find Hoechlin leaning nonchalantly in the open doorway of the bathroom, like he's on a mission to make sure Dylan gets safely to bed. "We didn't get anything for dessert."

"I'm sure we'll think of something," Hoechlin says with a wicked there-and-gone flash of smile, and really, if that's not flirting then Dylan has very clearly lost his mind. 

Dylan rinses his mouth. "I have a secret stash of chocolate syrup," he offers. "I bet I could figure out something to do with it."

That gets him one of Hoechlin's amazing thousand-watt grins, and it's absolutely ridiculous what it does to Dylan's chest. And stomach. And...other areas. Turning off the bathroom light, he slips past Hoechlin, their shoulders brushing in passing. At the sound of his name, he stops and looks back.

Hoechlin is standing in the middle of the hallway. "You know you only need a DMZ between enemy territories, right?" he says. "Allies can be right up against each other." Then, without waiting for Dylan to answer, he disappears into his bedroom, leaving the door open behind him.

A lamp clicks on inside and a pool faint of light spills out into the hallway. Dylan stares at it for a second, and then moves toward it. When he reaches the doorway, Hoechlin is sprawled on his back in bed, propped up on his elbows. Dylan swallows.

"That...sounded kind of like an invitation," he says.

"Probably because it was." Hoechlin pats the bed beside him. He's smiling, and that makes it the easiest thing ever for Dylan to step inside and close the door.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this gif on Tumblr](http://frankly-mydear.tumblr.com/post/30623957961/i-have-fallen-and-i-dont-want-to-get-up).
> 
> I cannot possibly thank [**casspeach**](http://archiveofourown.org/users/casspeach) enough. She betas, cheerleads, holds my hand, and just is basically my lifeline when I'm writing.


End file.
